


tornerose

by Anonymous



Category: Vinland Saga (Manga)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Bad BDSM Etiquette, Brief Feminization, Brother/Brother Incest, Consensual Drugging, Consensual Somnophilia, Dom/sub, Drabble Sequence, M/M, Sibling Incest, Unhealthy Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-11
Updated: 2019-12-11
Packaged: 2021-02-17 21:54:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,101
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21750334
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: The Ketilsson family holds a Christmas party.
Relationships: Thorgil/Olmar (Vinland Saga)
Kudos: 5
Collections: Anonymous





	tornerose

**Author's Note:**

> Follows in the [mithridatism series.](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21723874) The actual _actions_ are all consensual in this one, but Thorgil is as good a dom as he is a big brother, so there's your warning.

His brother winks at him over the glass. "I made this one special for you. The one we talked about."

"Right." Olmar nods, and takes the glass so Thorgil can get back to the other guests.

"I'd wait about fifteen minutes to take a sip. Don't put it down anywhere. You never know when some creep's gonna show up, even at a nice party like this."

He watches Thorgil laughing about something, surrounded by people Mom and Dad invited. All of them interested in Thorgil, not him. But they're not going to get to have his brother for much longer.

* * *

Thorgil laughs even harder every time he looks over and sees Olmar checking his phone for the time. Finally it's fifteen minutes on the dot, and he looks up to make sure his brother's eyes are on him when he starts drinking.

He can't help feeling hurt when he realizes whatever it is isn't going to work right away. He'd figured Thorgil would want to time it so they can start right away. But it must be another twenty minutes before he feels an arm around him and notices with a start that he does need to be held up.

* * *

"Aw, kiddo, I'm sorry. That one hit you a little too hard, huh? Let's get you off to bed."

Olmar nods, dimly aware that he knows the arm holding him and the voice talking loud enough for everyone around them to hear. He said it was okay, getting led out of the room where everyone can see how his brother's worrying over him. It's okay looking like he can't handle his booze yet, it's okay getting called a kid in public. Because it's _his_ big brother walking out on everybody else for this thing only Olmar can do for him.

* * *

He thinks his brother might have picked him up at some point as they move through the house, but it's hard to tell with how foggy everything's going around them.

"How're you feeling?"

It feels like there's something holding onto his heart to keep it moving slow. "Sleepy," he tries to say. It's how he knows he's supposed to feel. It doesn't come out right. At least he doesn't think so. His mouth didn't do the right thing.

" _Fuck_ , that's hot." And now he does feel his feet leaving the ground, as Thorgil scoops him up to take the stairs.

* * *

Olmar wakes up with a headache, but his brother has water ready and lets him rest his head in his lap until he feels better.

"Sleeping Beauty needs a little time to adjust, I see." Thorgil's fingers are in his hair, rubbing right down to the scalp. He's holding his phone in the other hand, but Olmar ignores that. The headache fades as the water gets into his system and his muscles loosen. He probably slept on them funny. He could go right back to sleep like this, with the sun warming one side of him and Thorgil the other. 

* * *

They're in Thorgil's room. Olmar didn't get the chance to notice last night. He must've been out by the time Thorgil hit the top step.

"You were sooo sweepy last night, big brother had to put you to bed in the closest room there was. You're getting a long lecture right now on knowing your limits with alcohol. Or some shit like that, it all came right out my ass."

"You wouldn't even let me have any."

Thorgil flicks his forehead. "And why else would you be passing out in the middle of Dad's swanky Christmas party? Use your head."

* * *

"How was the rest of the party?" Olmar waits.

"I couldn't pay attention to anything, little brother, all because of _you_. I'm just so obsessed with how much you love taking my dick." Thorgil grins down at him. "That what you wanna hear?"

"Yeah."

"Well, I did fine, as a matter of fact. I've never been more charming. Might even have broken a few hearts. I guess you can feel smug about putting me in such a good mood."

Olmar can live with that. He wasn't really expecting Thorgil to embarrass himself, or even stay up here the whole night.

* * *

"You ready?"

He can tell Thorgil's patience is starting to wear out, so he nods and sits up. Instead of the phone, Thorgil pulls a laptop onto the bed and flips it open.

"Look at you, up there on the big screen." His brother yanks him roughly into his lap, and Olmar nestles into his chest before he turns to look at the laptop.

It's true, they do look like brothers just from a glance. It's easier to tell now that he's looking from the outside. Even having the video must be dangerous. But Thorgil wants to have it anyway.

* * *

The Olmar on the screen makes a little _Unh_ sound when Thorgil takes his hair down. He really likes keeping it styled. But that means Thorgil probably pulled it a bunch while he was out. He thinks about how his neck felt when he woke up. The rest of him is sore too, but he knew that was going to happen even without seeing how his brother's bending him in the video. Sometimes he thinks Thorgil won't be satisfied until he hears a snap. 

They're satisfied right now, though. Both of them. He looks up just to make sure.

_Yeah._

* * *

"You know how a roofie works, Olmar? It slows that little rabbit heart down until your brain has no choice but to decide you're asleep now."

He already explained it, but Olmar nods.

"Turns my trash mouth little brother into a nice sweet dolly for me. For anyone, really." He laughs. "I could've let you fall right over on the floor in public. Or brought you outside and passed you off to some creepshow out trolling for boys."

"I know," Olmar says quietly. That's all part of this.

Another laugh. "Aw, but I'd never betray this sacred trust we share."   
———  
Onscreen, Thorgil's doing that thing where he barely keeps himself from biting down hard. The Olmar on the screen doesn't notice that—or anything, really. But Olmar kind of likes watching it. It's like seeing himself as an animal tamer, with his head in the lion's mouth. And he already knows he comes out safe.

"Riiight about there's where I remembered the big Christmas photo for the newspaper," Thorgil says. "Can't go taking chunks out of you with that coming up."

"I could say I got in a fight."

"With who, the Rotenburg Cannibal?"

Olmar has to concede the point.

* * *

In the video, Olmar's face is changing as his brother fucks him. Not that much, just screwing up a little bit. His mouth opens a little, but it's just a camera phone so it didn't catch the sound, if there was any.

"That's all pure instinct," Thorgil says low into his ear. "Your lizard brain telling you something feels good. I could feel your prick _twitching_ against me even with the rest of you so drugged up I couldn't have slapped you awake. That's how much you love getting fucked."

It is pretty hot, when he puts it like that.

* * *

"You know the real story of Sleeping Beauty, right?"

He does. That's the only time Thorgil ever read him anything, when he found a bunch of fucked up old fairy tales. It was cool hearing them, like learning secrets about how the world really is, but Olmar would've listened to anything as long as it got his brother to spend time with him. "Some old king knocked her up in her sleep and she only woke up ‘cuz of the babies."

"And that's how Snow White got hitched too, wasn't it? At least I gave you a heads up first."

* * *

"What else was there, The Princess and the Pea? I think that one's more your speed. Delicate little rich boy testing out every mattress in town. It's Danish, too. Our illustrious heritage."

"I'm not delicate!" He knows Thorgil likes teasing him about that, but it gets him pissed every time anyway.

"Yeah?"

Olmar squeaks as his brother's fingers go in. They don't hurt, so he must've spit or something without him noticing. "B-Bro...!"

"Take a good long look at yourself getting fucked all limp and helpless, and then tell me how much of a needy little princess you're _not_ , kid."

* * *

"Ten if you come." Thorgil's still watching the screen, his face intent.

"What?! Seriously?"

"With the belt."

Olmar flinches at the word. If Thorgil's gonna come up with new rules on the fly like this, he could at least bother looking at him while he does it. His fingers are so big it's hard not to feel them riding right up inside him, like they just—the belt. It's the belt, and that stings. Worse than the hand. He kind of wishes he could ask for the belt to not be an option.

But that's not part of the deal.

* * *

Thorgil rotates him so he's looking directly at the laptop, not just from the side. He tries to squeeze his brother's arm and think about the belt to keep from coming. He can already imagine what'll happen if he closes his eyes, so he keeps them open and watches himself getting fucked. In real life his legs move and his throat works a little, but the Olmar from last night barely twitches except when he comes.

"Sleepy little boy," Thorgil says. "Letting big bro take care of him." He's not playing fair. He must really want to use the belt.

* * *

When Thorgil comes—came—he does it all over Olmar's belly. "You think I licked that up for you, or you think I went back down to the party?" His fingers are still working inside Olmar now.

"You left me," Olmar says. "Definitely. _Ah_ , fuck—!"

Thorgil makes a pleased sound and Olmar nearly nuts right then and there. "You got some of my brains in there after all! Yeah, you were still laying right there when I came back. I cleaned you up then, don't worry. There I go now. Wanna watch yourself lay there some more?"

Olmar grits his teeth. "Yes." 

* * *

He knows what that really means. He's going to get fingered as long as Thorgil wants. And he's not going to come, because he can handle it. He's already decided what he wants after this. Nothing is gonna stand in the way of him getting there.

"You know what?" Thorgil says. "I'll cut you a break. You did such a good job for big brother already."

It's one last low blow, but Olmar squeezes his fingers into Thorgil's arm, counts to three, and says, his voice shaking, "Okay then." And he doesn't come.

"Fine, you win. Don't break my arm."

* * *

"You still haven't visited me at college," he says, hugging Thorgil's arm. "It's so boring."

"Cut me a key and I'll drop by. Maybe."

"You can't _maybe_ me! I'm your brother!"

"It really all depends on what your neighbors are like. 'Cuz you're not gonna be expecting me when I do." Thorgil pulls his hair suddenly from behind. "Could get a little loud."

"Oh." That kind of visit.

"We'll talk it over," Thorgil says sweetly, smoothing his hair back into place. "Negotiate." A kiss on the side of the head almost sets Olmar off again, but he holds it down. 

* * *

"All right, princess, you did a good job. Every task the wicked King Thorgil demanded of you. Name your reward."

"I want a leather jacket. Like the kind you have."

"That's it?" Thorgil clicks his tongue, and he looks genuinely annoyed. "Hell, you could buy that yourself."

"Yeah, but I want one you think looks cool. So I can be sure." It's true, but he also knows his brother really likes hearing stuff like that. "Maybe two."

For a second there's no change in Thorgil's expression. Then his brow relaxes and he ruffles Olmar's hair. "You little brown-noser. Fine."

* * *

The jacket is super cool. Just one, but it comes with gloves, also leather. There's this big angry bird on the back—"Spitting image of our family crest," his brother tells the clerk, completely straight faced, and Olmar has to cover his face to hide a laugh.

Thorgil gives him a smile once they're out the door, their own little smile just for the two of them, the two coolest guys in the world sharing one big secret. He almost skips, but remembers in time that you can't skip when you're wearing a leather jacket. It's just against the rules.


End file.
